The tide

How long this lasted
He had no way of knowing
This flowing road, this pale tide
He could not hide
And like all these spirits with no abode
He must abide and flow with the tide

This lasted long, the tired march
the tide flowing on and on
Though gloom and dust
Moving with spirits severely defined
to guide and whispering to confide
A way to one's lost self in selfish decline

This pale road in a sea of sable
Thoroughfares flowing timeless
He walks still, not knowing that
repeating this rhyme he must abide
to be like spirits with no abode
and flow with the tide